


Resonance and its Disturbance

by odalwa



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Brain of Mensis, M/M, Nightmare of Mensis, frenzy/insanity stuff, phantasms, weird phantasm stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:53:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22386283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odalwa/pseuds/odalwa
Summary: A hunter charges into the Nightmare with only one goal in mind. He gets what he wants, but even when not looking for secrets, one might feel punished for sticking his nose where it doesn't belong.AKA Micolash is tied to the wall by his ridiculous head cage and everyone laughs at him.
Relationships: The Hunter/Micolash Host of the Nightmare
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Resonance and its Disturbance

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for rape, forced bondage, and slugs. 
> 
> I wrote 80% of this and then let it sit for almost a whole year, just fiddling with it every now and then, delete a line, add a line, delete that new line. So I just wanted to get this piece of junk uploaded so I can call it done and stop thinking about it. So here it is, not that anyone was waiting for it. Sorry if it is just horrible. I know. 
> 
> I was inspired by that awesome howl Micolash does about halfway through the fight. What is he trying to express?

There is no time in the nightmare. It’s an endless moment of consciousness collapsing into itself, a thick and heavy aura pervading the entirety of this dimension. It makes him sick. Edgar is lost, listlessly looking up at the clouds as they churn around him. He’s not supposed to be here. He’s practically innocent, dragged into this nightmare with the rest of Mensis before he could get out. And now, he’s here. In this timeless, swirling hell, trapped alone with the great brain. He’d tossed his cage into the abyss long ago, but sometimes he thinks he can still hear its deeply unsettling thoughts. It’s a truly hopeless situation, and he’d long ago given up, so when someone runs by him, he doesn’t even turn around in time to take a swing. For the moment, it doesn’t feel urgent. Nothing feels urgent in this otherworldly place. So, with both sword and pistol in hand, Edgar watches while some ugly hunter from the streets of Yharnam sprints down the dark halls out to the bridge and across it. What’s his rush? So excited to be pierced by a thousand eyes? …

Wait.

How did a commoner get into this place, anyway? Edgar furrows his brow, looking out at the glowing brain in the center tower. If a hunter can find his way here to the nightmare, could Edgar find a way back out? Back to the waking world? Might there actually be hope for him? The thought lightens his sunken mood slightly. Edgar holsters his gun and pushes up his glasses, then, hesitantly, he follows the hunter, stalking into the dark building after him.

\---

Micolash wanders the library in a daze, his head swinging about with the weight of the Mensis cage. He pulls his robes up as he walks down the stairs and mutters to himself, lost in thoughts he supposed were too large for his mind. Like his eyes, so few and small he can’t even perceive the horizon on the sea. Yet, even after the school fell to the nightmare, Micolash never lost faith in its purpose -and by the grace of God- much of the laboratory equipment was left unharmed. Very quickly, for a myriad of reasons, the school itself became much, much less crowded, which invited even more candid research on his part. Soon enough it was just him and the research hall, and endless time. And the brain.

It calls for him without end. He continues his muttering while he descends, responding to its many complaints, and just as he’s about to turn down the hall leading to the brain’s tower, he hears footsteps, approaching fast. He turns to see someone -a hunter- sprinting across the bridge, arm outstretched and finger pointing.

“YOU!” the hunter shouts as he runs, and Micolash goes cold with fear at the sight. He knew the church would send someone to destroy their fabulous work sooner or later. The hunter appears to be a Yharnamite, wearing the ever-popular tri-corner hat with a mask and cape. Under his long coat Micolash recognizes the garb of a scholar, maybe Bergenwyrth, but he pushes back his curiosity to give his attention to the bloody axe the hunter wields. Murmuring, he slinks backward behind a corner, out of sight, thinking hopefully the hunter has a short attention span as he tip-toes backward.

“I SEE YOU!” the hunter yells, and Micolash breaks out into a run back up the stairs. The hunter follows suit, catching up with him and keeping pace just behind him, not quite outrunning him. Micolash turns a corner as the hunter reaches out, grabbing for his robes and barely missing.

Something about this situation, running for his life from a bloodthirsty hunter, it’s exciting; fun, even. In the back of his mind, he’s reminded of his childhood, when he and his brothers would play tag and chase each other around the table in circles. Yet even now, Micolash can only think about eyes, and as he runs a circle around the warped library he drones out his prayers for more of them between heavy breaths. The brain has eyes, but no way to grant them. But it is still crying out… _Resonate… Resonate… Pray and resonate…_

Micolash turns a corner and leans against the wall, panting heavily and straining to catch his breath. He thinks he’s shaken the hunter, but within moments the Yharnamite sprints around the corner and grabs the bars of the Mensis cage, throwing Micolash to the ground with all his weight. Micolash cries out as his head bounces violently against the bars, and the hunter quickly adjusts himself to straddle the scholar and pulls Micolash’s arms behind his back. He unhooks a coil of rope from his belt and loops it around Micolash’s wrists, then ties off several tight knots while Micolash reels.

“Beast!! Away from me you foul creature!” he writhes, trying and failing to pull his arms free.

“Heh… I-, Wow. Got ya,” the hunter says, somewhat surprised. Micolash squirms uncomfortably on his belly, pulling at the ropes in vain.

“Yeah?! And what, pray tell, is it you plan to do now?” he wheezes while the hunter cuts a line of rope and wraps it around the upper bars of the Mensis cage, looping it through a single chain hanging from the decorative crown and securing it with a knot. He gives it a few tugs to test its strength before answering.

“I-eh, I’m going to punish you for your _foul_ deeds!” the hunter asserts, and from the tone of his voice Micolash figures he has to be a young hunter indeed. _What is blood but not of men, nor natural beast? What comes from above yet is found below? Where is it?_

“Foul deeds! Oh! what on earth could I have done? You’ve gone mad, young beast hunter, well and truly. I’ve-” He’s cut off when the hunter jerks Micolash to his feet by the rope, pulling him on it like a leash. “Oh! Look! You were a student once, yes? You must- Oh stop it!” Micolash whines when the hunter yanks the rope leash and he stumbles onto one knee. It’s a struggle to right himself without the use of his arms and with the great weight of the cage on his shoulders, but the hunter keeps pulling him forward and Micolash lurches to his feet and scurries to keep up with him.

“’What have I done,’ he says…” The hunter scowls, and solemnly drags Micolash down the hall. “Fuckin’ prick…” The cage, fastened tightly around his collar with a buckle, pulls at Micolashs’s neck uncomfortably, and he grunts when the hunter tugs on it. Is this person someone he’s supposed to remember?

The hunter doesn’t know where he’s going, but he enjoys tugging on the rope as he walks, listening to his captive grunt and stagger like a drunk man into the shelves on either side of him as he’s rushed along. Soon he finds an opened balcony that feels less cramped than the rest of the tight hallways in the library. It’s perfect, he thinks.

“On your knees,” says the hunter, and when Micolash does nothing, he yanks hard on the rope and pushes him down on his shoulder until Micolash gives and falls to his knees. The hunter loops the rope around one of the many casted sculptures affixed to the bookcases and ties the Mensis cage closely to the image of a weeping messenger. Micolash looks up hopelessly, unable to see past the cage’s ceiling.

“What is this? What are you doing?” his head jerks as the hunter tightens the knot. _Come here. I need you._

“Oh please, I’m sure you’re familiar to this sort of situation,” he scoffs. “It’s why you wear this stupid headgear, right?”

“A-absolutely not! This is- in order to properly facilitate contact with-“

“Okay I really don’t care. You’re a crazed evil bastard and I’ll fucking-“ he cuts himself off, looking down, trying to collect himself. This wasn’t how he meant this to happen. “Just be quiet. Scooch. Spread your legs.” He kneels behind Micolash and reaches around to unbuckle him, then pulls down the scholar’s pants while Micolash fidgets. The cage buzzes, and Micolash shakes his head, trying to ignore the vibrating cacophony of the nightmare. Now isn’t a good time… _Resonate with me. Come here and I’ll share with you my eyes. My eyes. You’ll see. Come here._

“Please, understand, whatever Mensis has done-“

“_You’ve_ done,” the hunter sneers. _Resonate with her._

“It’s all been for the sake of- our ascension! All to find it- Kos! Endless wisdom, purpose, freedom! I don’t know what you’ve heard, but-oof!” Micolash is suddenly thrown against the wall and his forehead bounces painfully off the bars of the cage. The hunter slaps his head against the wall a second time and he wheezes.

“You were a student, once, weren’t you? Can’t you understand?” Micolash gasps, head spinning. He jerks away violently when a hand finds its way to his backside. “Don’t! Please- there’s no need for this!” He almost laughs in surprise when a finger slips easily inside him. Then he moans, taken by sensation, the hunter a forgotten shadow behind him. The receiver strapped to his head resonates with something inside him, agitated. _Where are you. Can you hear me?_ Its voice in his mind so clear.

“Ugh, it’s er, wet…” the hunter groans while he explores Micolash’s inner regions with his fingers. They slide in and out with ease, as though he’d been preparing himself for it. Normally the inside of an ass shouldn’t be so loose and wet, right? Surely this is a sign of ill health. In addition... “It’s kind of… slimy…”

“Yyyou don’t know what you’re doin’,” Micolash shudders as the hunter pulls his fingers out and wipes them on his cape. The hunter tugs off his own cloak and unbuckles his pants while his prisoner moans on the ground. “Meddling where you don’t belong. Get off of me!” Micolash struggles and thrashes when the madman gets close to him, but he is bigger and stronger than Micolash, and by wrapping his arms around the scholar’s torso he pulls Micolash close and starts rubbing his dick over Micolash’s legs.

“Ahh! Don’t!” Micolash whines and writhes anew, trying to move away, but his head is pinned to the wall, and he can only shuffle stiffly in place, wringing his hands behind his back. With one arm wrapped around the scholar, the hunter reaches for his own dick and guides it inside Micolash. It slips in easily, like nothing the hunter had imagined, and he moans and hugs the warm body in front of him closer. Micolash grunts, trying only to breathe while the hunter claws at him and forces himself inside further.

“God!” the hunter cries, his legs shaking. Micolash’s insides are burning hot, and though his entrance was loose, there’s a strange fluttering pressure running over what he can fit inside. He slowly thrusts his hips a few times, immediately overstimulated. After a few moments Micolash finds his voice and shrieks.

“Foul beast! Off! OFF!” Micolash struggles, jerking his hips away, but the hunter holds a firm grip on him and follows his movement, and in time holds him still. “A curse on you! Ohhh, hear me, Kos!” Micolash’s legs shake as the hunter fucks him, pace evening out to slow steady thrusts. _I hear you. I hear you._

“Mmm… Why is it so… slimy?” the hunter runs his hands over Micolash’s sides, contemplating the feeling. Something isn't right.

“You can’t do this! Uhhh… You’re- you’re ruining everything! You fucking fool!” Micolash groans and squirms in place. His head buzzes with sound; the brain is screaming in terror, and faintly, somewhere, a baby cries. He can't move. But the resonance from the cage sends constant streams of energy down his spine to settle in his intestines where the fucker is inside him, and he clenches around it. _Come here and resonate together. We will look. We will see, together. We’ll resonate. You’ll get eyes._

“Really, why do you feel so- er, ooey gooey?” The young hunter pushes in with a squelch, grimacing at the sound and sensation, when the fluttering pressure on his cock increases in intensity. “Ohh, damn! I-” suddenly the hunter pulls the mask off his face and takes a deep gasping breath. “What is this? Your- your asshole? It’s…” he trails off and nestles his hips to Micolash’s, groaning softly. “It’s er, _buzzing_, or something.”

“Oh forgive us! We shan’t give up! Beset by- ugh,” Micolash chokes when the hunter bucks hard. “Wicked miscreants and blood-addled mmeddlers!” _Come here, Micolash and resonate. Find me, Micolash, and resonate with me. I hear you. I see everything. I see so much with these eyes, take them from me. Come here, Micolash._ “I’m coming! I’m coming! Just shut up!”

“Ohh, really? You are such a freak!” Hunter exclaims, and reaches between Micolash’s legs to feel him up. “Oh, I mean, I had no idea you’d- want it! ” he laughs, grabbing his dick and rubbing it carelessly. The hunter readjusts himself, pulling Micolash backward with him so that he’s fully bent over, and the Mensis cage pulls at Micolash’s throat and chokes him. He gags and wriggles in place, trying desperately to cry out. But he’s trapped in place, held firmly against the hunter and pinned to the wall, his hands uselessly bound behind his back. The hunter breathes heavily in his ear while fervently humping him. He’s entranced by the unfamiliar slick pressure surrounding his cock, and barely notices Micolash is choking until the scholar starts shaking violently from lack of oxygen. Just in time, he stops his rutting and scoots them both forward so the rope slackens slightly. Micolash gasps for breath, sputtering .

“Bastard!” he wheezes. “Blood sucking, lousy, son of a- whore’s, dog! Ahh…”

“It’s soo- can you feel it? It feels…” breathes the hunter, slowing down and rubbing at Micolash’s exposed skin almost gently. Ungloved hands run over the scholar’s exposed legs and rest on his butt, holding him firmly so the hunter can fuck him deeper. Micolash groans, not thinking. The choking has his head spinning, and the alien heat buzzing inside him keeps his nerves flaring. In fact, he does feel the strange slimy pressure in his rectum, and he knows the cause. With each push from the hunter his innards light up with a bizarre heat and pleasure. No one else need know about that, especially not this blood-mad street urchin. Already he feels so many invisible eyes on him; vultures and leeches in every direction, called by the singing resonance of-

“Mmm, it feels like… electricity… or like… mmm…” the hunter trails off and brushes his hand over Micolash’s cock, thoughtlessly stroking it. Micolash just whines, held up by the rope around his head cage and subdued by the intense feelings inside him. The hunter lets go of Micolash’s dick and takes up a faster rhythm, clearly chasing his own orgasm, and his motions stir to consciousness the things inside Micolash. His gut rumbles, a clear sign of something shifting downward, and Micolash howls. The hunter pays him no mind, gripping his hips hard and humping away until he suddenly releases inside the scholar with a strangled cry. _I see a great distance, I’m alone in this void. Can you hear me?_

Finally he slows down and rests his hips flush to his captive’s, affectionately and absent-mindedly feeling up Micolash’s sides under his clothes. He sighs contentedly, effectively distracted from his original intent to punish the former scholar. He pulls out with a sigh and massages his own junk lovingly. “That was amazing,” he breathes, but suddenly Micolash doubles over and writhes with new energy.

“Ohhh god… They’re awake,” Micolash mutters with dread evident in his voice, and the blissed out hunter snaps back to reality enough to watch him shudder and curl in on himself, as much as is possible bound the way he is. Micolash whines lowly, tensing up and spreading his legs in preparation, and the hunter watches with silent growing trepidation as Micolash’s asshole seems to open of its own volition, and a single eye emerges, opening a moment later. A second eyeball joins it, held aloft by a fleshy stalk from inside Micolash. _I see light._

“What the fuck!” the hunter shouts, dumbfounded, and scoots backward with urgency. Micolash’s rear opens further, pushing out the body of a fat blue slug, eyes blinking asynchronously, watching the hunter, whose mouth is hung open in shock.

“You…. Bastard!” Micolash grunts. The slug inches down his thigh, making room for a second, which has already started to emerge. “Mmm… What have you done?!” The slugs leave a trail of arcane goo, which burns and tingles where they touch his body. The hunter just stares, aghast, as a third slug wiggles out of Micolash’s rear and falls to the ground. Micolash cries faintly, “No, no no noo…” He shakes in place as his hidden treasures, agitated by the fucking, slowly worm their way out one by one, leaving trails of come and slime along his legs. Micolash howls again, and the hunter finally snaps out of his shocked trance.

“Oh FUCKING Hell!“ Horrified and confused, the hunter pulls his mask on and grabs his coat in one movement and he flees the scene with haste, quickly disappearing around the corner of the hall.

“Wait! WAIT! Come back!!” Micolash calls to the retreating footsteps, but he knows it’s hopeless. “You must untie me! COME BACK!!! You _foul fucking beast!!_ Ohhhh-“ Micolash pulls weakly at the bonds around his wrists, trying to relax as many tiny phantasms make their way out of him, escaping blindly under his shirt and under the bookcases. The intense arcane pressure in his ass lessens slowly as they leave, one by one, but the lingering pleasure coats his insides and keeps him hard and on edge. Looking down, he can see through the cage that there are several of them on the ground, squirming around near his knees, eyes on their backs looking up at him. He feels them clinging to his body, and though the sensation is disturbing, the phantasms leave little viscous trails of slime glowing with arcane energy. It feels good, but it’s scattering away from him to the nightmare. Without them inside, the resonance of the cage dims and he struggles to perceive the hidden things that were drawn to him when it rang loud.

In addition to this, the brain is wailing its own woes to anyone who can listen, its etheric voice resonating through the Mensis cage the overwhelming entrapment and darkness it knows, begging him to go be with it. Micolash shakes his head, like it will rid him of its presence. Its consciousness presses in on him, the only sound left, and he sighs deeply, tugging hopelessly at the rope around his wrists. He thinks the brain laughs at him. A long fat phantasm worms its way out of him, wrapping itself around his leg, with eyes lining its millipede-like body looking in every direction. His gut feels empty. The cage has dimmed and his mind is quiet.

  
  


Hours pass, or it feels that way to Micolash. He was initially afraid to even shift his legs, for fear of squishing a precious phantasm, and now, he feels stiff and achy, more than irritated. How long will he be here like this, chained to a wall on his knees with his pants down? He’d be humiliated if there were anyone left alive in the nightmare, but then, if there were anyone left alive then he would have had some hope of being saved, right? Most of the phantasms have left the room to the cracks and corners; only a scant few have wandered lost in circles, and there are one or two still stuck to Micolash’s body and legs.

“Ahh, Kos… Kosm… Do you hear our prayers?”

The sound of approaching footsteps rings out from the hall, echoing around the corners of the vast library. Micolash freezes, unsure of what to do. Should he call out and risk being found by another crazed _maniac?_ Has the same hunter recovered his nerve and come back to finish him off? The steps get louder as the stranger approaches, then they stop when they turn the corner. He’s sure they are behind him now, already fixing their gaze on him.

“Who’s there?! Don’t come any closer!” the trapped man cries as Edgar just stares at the spectacle Micolash has become. He can recognize his teacher’s shrill voice anywhere. He approaches slowly, taking his time. Micolash is turned away from the doorway, shifting his legs together self consciously. His pants have fallen around his knees, and his robes are not quite long enough to hide the smears of glowing blue and white fluid on his ass. His hands are red, bound together by several loops around the wrists and forearms, skin irritated from rope burn. And the unwieldy top of the cage that proud Mensis scholars would don regularly is affixed to some hideous wall sculpture, forcing Micolash to balance himself with his neck bent awkwardly. Edgar can’t help himself; he holds his hand to his face while he snickers, startling Micolash into turning wildly to try to see behind himself.

“I mean it! Don’t- don’t you dare look at me!”

“Professor, what a surprise to find you here!” Edgar circles around to look the nightmare’s host in the eye. He feels a bit guilty when he finds himself disappointed at the lack of tear tracks on Micolash’s sunken face, but he savors the pleading look his once-superior gives him.

“Edgar! You- you’re here! Help me!” Micolash looks around frantically, jerking his head as much as he can with the cage immobilized. “The slugs! Find them!”

“Slugs?” Edgar follows his eyes around the room, and he spots a few in the corner. “What is something like that doing here?”

“Grab them! Quickly! They’re mine!” Edgar is about to obediently scramble to collect the slugs, but he hesitates, and looks down at Micolash on his knees there, and reconsiders. Any respect Edgar feigned for Micolash is long dead.

“Hurry Edgar! Don’t let any more get away!” Micolash commands, his usually authoritative tone pitched high with distress. Edgar stifles another laugh. He's completely forgotten what prompted him to come here in the first place, but it doesn't matter.

“Of course… I’ll get those for you, Professor. But really, there isn’t any need for that tone, is there?” he says, and Micolash inhales deeply and wails in bereavement. Edgar goes back around to his backside and examines the glowing marks wrapped around his thighs, all tracing back up to his anus. Micolash sighs heavily, looking forlornly at the last little phantasm as it squeezes between the cracks of the balcony.

“Please, _please_ just go get them! You couldn’t know the terrific effort that went into their being.”

“Well, I think I understand where they lived until just recently,” Edgar says, not really hiding the amusement in his voice. “I have an idea of what _you’ve_ been up to all this time.”

“Ohh, I didn’t think you were still alive,” sighs Micolash. Edgar stoops down behind him and puts his hands on the ropes binding Micolash’s wrists, and at first Micolash thinks he’s going to untie him, but instead he just touches the ropes, feeling how taut they are. “You know. You could’ve been a great help, at _any_ point.”

“I thought you were dead too, professor,” Edgar says, absentmindedly. “Or changed into some horrible other thing. How did you end up getting caught with your pants down?” He swipes a finger over the glowing slime coating Micolash’s cheeks, and holds it to his face, inspecting it closely.

“Just- get me out of this. I’ve lost many a precious thing. I just want to lay down.” Micolash huffs, and Edgar gingerly rubs his shoulders in an empty gesture of comfort.

“Lay down? Terribly sorry, sir, but the dormitories are not in this realm with us. Where do you expect to lay down?” He tries not to use such an obviously mocking tone, but as he gently moves his hands to touch the junction of Micolash’s neck and shoulders, he grins widely, satisfied at how Micolash sighs in defeat, relaxing somewhat.

“Oh, just anywhere…. Edgar?” Edgar’s face is very close now, breathing on the back of his neck, carefully bending down to reach what’s exposed under the enormous metal cage. Now Micolash hasn’t got much memory of a time before Mensis fell into the nightmare, but he’s certain this is uncharacteristic behavior for Edgar. Still, Micolash holds still when Edgar moves in and gives his neck several chaste kisses.

“Micolash,” Edgar breathes against Micolash’s neck, and a shiver runs through him. “Do you remember anything?”  
“O-of course.”

“Then you remember how closely we worked together in the waking world?”

“Nn-no. I worked alone.” Micolash furrows his brow while Edgar gingerly touches his shoulders. It seems so familiar, and intimate, and Micolash doesn’t trust it.

“I helped supervise nearly every vivisection you performed, Professor.”

“I don’t recall.”

“Marvelous work, truly. But why? I read through everyone’s notes, and I think I can say I’m greatly responsible for some volumes of the literature regarding those surgeries. You don’t remember me?”

“I was much too focused on work, Edgar. I-“

“I remember that we killed a lot of good people. Members of the church, holy people. Your greasy street hunters took them to us in the dark and we dissected them and found nothing in every single case. Why?”

“What do you mean, why?” Micolash turns his head as far back as he can, trying to look his colleague in the eye.

“Why did you have to take us all to hell?” Edgar’s hands dig in to Micolash’s shoulders, suddenly turning painful.

“Well I-aaAGH!” Edgar shakes him violently, slamming his head into the wall angrily.

“You don’t know what horrors I’ve been forced to endure for NOTHING!” He grabs Micolash’s sides and squeezes his organs, and Micolash squirms and yells in pain. “Was it worth it, to finally have a room to commit your obscene deeds alone?”

“Well, heh, we’ve learned so much though, haven’t we?” Micolash breathes, and Edgar impulsively punches him in the back. Silence falls between them. Edgar grimaces at the floor, trying to soothe his feelings that came out so suddenly. Micolash holds perfectly still, starting to understand that Edgar won't just untie him if he asks again.

“...You saw a hunter, did you not?” Edgar asks quietly.

“SAW him?! I-!” Micolash sighs shortly. “Yes.”

“Where did he go?”

“... I don't know. Up, I imagine.” Edgar watches Micolash's back as he breathes, sighing every few moments. His eyes turn to the phantasms, priceless treasures tracing circles on pale legs. Edgar plucks them off Micolash's body and places them in a hankerchief.

“What are you doing?!” Micolash immediately struggles when the final phantasms are taken from him.

“I must get out of here. I will find that hunter and force him to tell me.” Edgar stands, watching Micolash start to panic.

“Untie me! You- you-!!” Edgar considers untying him, feeling just the tiniest bit of pity.

“I'll most likely be back. There isn't any way out of the nightmare. Truth be told, I think the hunter is still here because he's as trapped as you and me.” Edgar turns away and climbs the stairs up, ignoring Micolash's cries for help.


End file.
